Monday 11th December 2017
They thought they’d got away with it, but they were wrong. I’m talking snow again. Much of Britain has a good smattering of the white stuff. Up until teatime yesterday it looked like our corner of Old Blighty had escaped, much to Dick and Shane’s delight. They crowed a little. As I said, one should never crow when it comes to snow. Actually what I said was, don’t count your snowballs, or lack of them, until they hatch. I was right. It started to snow just as I was dishing out smoked salmon sarnies by way of sustenance for men who had eaten enough lunch to keep an army marching for three weeks without a break. I don’t know where they put it all. They claim they only indulge on weekends, unlike me, who indulges every day of the week. Anyway, I was chuffed by the fall of fluffy stuff. The men folk were not. Talk about glum and glummer. They HATE driving in snow and there was much moaning both last night and this morning. I tried to keep my joy under wraps, but it kept escaping and beaming across my mug. I do sympathise on the driving front, but I can’t help it, I like snow. The garden looks beautiful in its frosty mantle and it makes everything feel more Christmassy. I’ve got my Christmas tree on order and am hoping Master Scrooge will let me put it up this coming weekend. Talking of Crimbo, our plans still aren’t finalised. Penny (boo, hiss) wants us to go to her pad, Chateau Gloom, for the holiday, but Shane says it depends on the weather, in which case I hope it keeps snowing from now until Christmas Eve. Bring on the blizzards.
Thursday 21st December 2017
It’s madness here at the moment, madness I tell you, MADNESS!
I’m having a sanity break with a cup of coffee and a mince pie.
So, Gilli, I hear you ask, what’s going on?
Well, to start with, Dick has been poorly bad with a hideous cold. The quasi mansion has been a veritable snot farm. I’ve never heard anyone cough so much. When his cough got worse, Shane bullied him into consulting a doctor, who diagnosed a chest infection and prescribed a course of voodoo pills. He’s still on the antibiotics and though he’s a bit better he’s still having bouts of violent coughing. The poor bugger is knackered. To be honest, Shane and me are knackered too, as his coughing also keeps us awake at night. He (Dick) is sleeping in the single room for his own comfort as well as ours, but even so, we can hear him hacking away. I reckon you’d be able to hear him through a soundproof room. He lost his rag the other night after a particularly violent spasm and hoarsely screamed the word BASTARD, which of course set him off coughing again. Shane went in to have a few soothing (I think) words with him. I must confess, sorry as I felt for him, his profane outburst set me grinning a bit. It just sounded so funny echoing through the house in the dead of night. I totally understood his annoyance and frustration. I hate having a chesty cold and a persistent cough. I just hope I don’t fall foul of the same evil germ.
Of course with Dick being so ill, he’s been off work, which has increased my workload at a time when I’m already busy. At least with him being ill he hasn’t been interested in sex so my cute booty has been safe from molestation. It didn’t stop him trying to interfere with my balls, as in the ones destined for the Crimbo tree. He kept trying to dictate where I hung them. I eventually got the tree dressed to a standard we both found acceptable and without blood being spilled or hands being slapped.
I thought Dick being ill would serve as an excuse for us not to go to Penny’s and also act as a deterrent for her heading our way, but no. She’s coming and bringing hubby and ancient papa with her. Jesus got three kings to visit him at Christmas. I get a witch, a muppet and a grumpy old man. As if that isn’t bad enough, we’ve got Herod (Leo) joining us as of this evening, to stay for the duration, along with Gen, his beloved moggy. He’s broken his ankle, a sailing mishap last weekend, and is on crutches, so he can’t really fend for himself once his housekeeper goes off for her Christmas holiday. Mike is spending Christmas in Germany with some old roadie mates, so it was left to us to offer festive cheer to Tiny Tim. God bless us every one.
So, I’ve got a houseful to cater for and attend to, and I’ll do it with good grace and a happy smile. I have to. Shane has threatened to murder me if I don’t.
It just remains to wish you all a happy and peaceful Christmas. Stay safe and hope to see you next year for more houseboy shenanigans - Providence and Shane permitting.
2018 THIS WAY--->
They thought they’d got away with it, but they were wrong. I’m talking snow again. Much of Britain has a good smattering of the white stuff. Up until teatime yesterday it looked like our corner of Old Blighty had escaped, much to Dick and Shane’s delight. They crowed a little. As I said, one should never crow when it comes to snow. Actually what I said was, don’t count your snowballs, or lack of them, until they hatch. I was right. It started to snow just as I was dishing out smoked salmon sarnies by way of sustenance for men who had eaten enough lunch to keep an army marching for three weeks without a break. I don’t know where they put it all. They claim they only indulge on weekends, unlike me, who indulges every day of the week. Anyway, I was chuffed by the fall of fluffy stuff. The men folk were not. Talk about glum and glummer. They HATE driving in snow and there was much moaning both last night and this morning. I tried to keep my joy under wraps, but it kept escaping and beaming across my mug. I do sympathise on the driving front, but I can’t help it, I like snow. The garden looks beautiful in its frosty mantle and it makes everything feel more Christmassy. I’ve got my Christmas tree on order and am hoping Master Scrooge will let me put it up this coming weekend. Talking of Crimbo, our plans still aren’t finalised. Penny (boo, hiss) wants us to go to her pad, Chateau Gloom, for the holiday, but Shane says it depends on the weather, in which case I hope it keeps snowing from now until Christmas Eve. Bring on the blizzards.
Thursday 21st December 2017
It’s madness here at the moment, madness I tell you, MADNESS!
I’m having a sanity break with a cup of coffee and a mince pie.
So, Gilli, I hear you ask, what’s going on?
Well, to start with, Dick has been poorly bad with a hideous cold. The quasi mansion has been a veritable snot farm. I’ve never heard anyone cough so much. When his cough got worse, Shane bullied him into consulting a doctor, who diagnosed a chest infection and prescribed a course of voodoo pills. He’s still on the antibiotics and though he’s a bit better he’s still having bouts of violent coughing. The poor bugger is knackered. To be honest, Shane and me are knackered too, as his coughing also keeps us awake at night. He (Dick) is sleeping in the single room for his own comfort as well as ours, but even so, we can hear him hacking away. I reckon you’d be able to hear him through a soundproof room. He lost his rag the other night after a particularly violent spasm and hoarsely screamed the word BASTARD, which of course set him off coughing again. Shane went in to have a few soothing (I think) words with him. I must confess, sorry as I felt for him, his profane outburst set me grinning a bit. It just sounded so funny echoing through the house in the dead of night. I totally understood his annoyance and frustration. I hate having a chesty cold and a persistent cough. I just hope I don’t fall foul of the same evil germ.
Of course with Dick being so ill, he’s been off work, which has increased my workload at a time when I’m already busy. At least with him being ill he hasn’t been interested in sex so my cute booty has been safe from molestation. It didn’t stop him trying to interfere with my balls, as in the ones destined for the Crimbo tree. He kept trying to dictate where I hung them. I eventually got the tree dressed to a standard we both found acceptable and without blood being spilled or hands being slapped.
I thought Dick being ill would serve as an excuse for us not to go to Penny’s and also act as a deterrent for her heading our way, but no. She’s coming and bringing hubby and ancient papa with her. Jesus got three kings to visit him at Christmas. I get a witch, a muppet and a grumpy old man. As if that isn’t bad enough, we’ve got Herod (Leo) joining us as of this evening, to stay for the duration, along with Gen, his beloved moggy. He’s broken his ankle, a sailing mishap last weekend, and is on crutches, so he can’t really fend for himself once his housekeeper goes off for her Christmas holiday. Mike is spending Christmas in Germany with some old roadie mates, so it was left to us to offer festive cheer to Tiny Tim. God bless us every one.
So, I’ve got a houseful to cater for and attend to, and I’ll do it with good grace and a happy smile. I have to. Shane has threatened to murder me if I don’t.
It just remains to wish you all a happy and peaceful Christmas. Stay safe and hope to see you next year for more houseboy shenanigans - Providence and Shane permitting.
2018 THIS WAY--->